


In Which We Were All Icarus

by shinkonokokoro



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Pacific Rim fusion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-23 13:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinkonokokoro/pseuds/shinkonokokoro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The kaiju still come. And the PPDC has a fully-staffed selection of Jaegers. It's been a long battle. Enter Tony Stark, flashy <i>solo</i> pilot of the Iron Man. Enter Steve Rogers, man from the past. Of course they're going to clash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The American Spirit was falling apart. Steve roared as he and Peggy punched the kaiju in the head, getting another quick uppercut under the jaw. “Ready laser cannon!” he shouted, looking quickly at Peggy. She nodded. Relief should have been there twenty minutes past, and it looked like that had failed, so they were on their own. Stabbing a finger on the comm button, he snapped, “Where's our reinforcements?”  
“Stark and Richards are having technical issues with their Jaeger. I'm sorry. You're on your own.”  
“Well we're having issues too!” Peggy snapped. The left leg was shot. They were limping. There wasn't much power behind the hydraulics either, with them leaking fluid.  
“We know, American Spirit. Just keep it together. We're getting you some air support,” loccent said, alarms blaring in the background.  
“Fuck,” Peggy snapped. They fell hard in the water as the kaiju took them down.  
“We can't take much more of this!” Steve said.  
“No shit, Rogers!”  
His eyes flicked to the cannon charge progress bar. 92%. “Come on, come on,” Steve murmured as they got to their feet. Dodging the kaiju's charge, they took aim. Except the American Spirit rocked with the lashing from the tail. They swore, rocked. “Shit! Shit, hull breach!” Steve swore.  
“I know,” Peggy grit out, bracing herself. “Let's go, Rogers! We've got 99%. Let's get this fucker.”  
They took aim again as the charm binged for full power. Steve blinked. Then all he knew was pain. There was light and Peggy was gone and sunlight streamed into the Conn-Pod. He was shouting. The cannon was charged. Steve fired. The kaiju went down. He staggered towards shore. Towards Lima. The American Spirit was failing on him. Steve trudged on.

 

“How the hell do we lose a Jaeger!” Howard shouted.  
“I-I'm sorry! I don't know!” the tech guy said, shrinking back.  
“They're fucking huge!”  
“Alright, Howard, listen, you have to—”  
“If you're going to tell me to relax,” he snapped, whirling on Marshal Phillips, “then you can shut up right now! Because I don't want to hear it. How the hell haven't we found Rogers and Carter yet? It's been two days! How does a Jaeger just disappear? That isn't possible!” Howard bit out.  
“We're trying,” Phillips said harshly. “Go home, Stark. Get some rest. We'll let you know if we find anything.”  
“Track them!” Howard shouted.  
“We can't!” Phillips bellowed back. “Get out of here, Stark. I'm sick of looking at your face. Go out with your girlfriend. We'll be in touch, okay. Not like we won't see you soon anyway. The Stark Relief is all cleaned up. You and Richards are good to go next attack. Now out!”  
Howard went back to his apartment.

 

“No word?” Howard asked as he strode towards Phillips in the shatterdome, two weeks later.  
“No word,” Phillips confirmed tiredly.

 

“No word?” Howard asked as he strode towards Phillips in the shatterdome, a month later.  
“No word,” Phillips confirmed tiredly.

 

“No word?” Howard asked as he strode towards Phillips in the shatterdome, four months later.  
“No word,” Phillips confirmed tiredly.

 

“No word?” Howard asked as he strode towards Phillips in the shatterdome, eight months later.  
“No word,” Phillips confirmed tiredly.

 

“No word?” Howard asked as he strode towards Phillips in the shatterdome, a year later.  
“No word,” Phillips confirmed tiredly.

 

“No word?” Howard asked as he strode towards Phillips in the shatterdome, two years later.  
“No word,” Phillips confirmed tiredly.

 

“No word?” Howard asked as he strode towards Phillips in the shatterdome, four years later.  
“No word,” Phillips confirmed tiredly.

 

Howard stopped piloting when Maria got pregnant. Howard started up again when Tony was two and they needed good Jaeger pilots. And well. Howard knew he was one of the best. He and Richards were a good team after all. And the kaiju kept coming.


	2. Chapter One

Tony's childhood ended when he became the youngest Jaeger pilot at the age of fourteen. Drift compatible with his father. Though to be fair, since his father was Howard Stark, he never really had much of a childhood to begin with.

On the upside, drifting with Howard sure helped their relationship. Tony had never understood his father's preoccupation with Steve Rogers. Sure, the guy was a hero Jaeger pilot. The first. But Tony hadn't understood. Until he drifted with the man and realised how closely his father had worked with Rogers—how they'd been friends—how Howard had gotten him into the programme. Made him try because he'd believed in him. Him and Erskine. They'd both mellowed. And as the three-year mark approached, Tony would almost say that he and his father were...friendly. If not friends. Tony wouldn't go so far as to ever voice that word aloud, however. But he could get Howard to look at his ideas these days. They spent more nights up in the workshop than he would like to account for.

The first time had been hard. They'd both been reeling from Maria's death. It was a comfort, Tony supposed, finding out how much his father had loved his mother. And it served to bring them closer. Because Tony had loved her unconditionally. And they took comfort in the fact that they had both loved the woman.

When Tony was thirteen, he'd hacked the databases and gotten access to the pilot capability tests. He'd passed with flying colours. And then bragged to the other kids at school who had told him that he would never be a Jaeger pilot. Howard had been furious with all the trouble it had brought down on him. However, when Nate Richards passed out due to the cancer he thought he was hiding, Tony happened to be on hand at the shatterdome and took his place before anyone could protest. The mental handshake held strong, and Tony learned more about his father than he thought he wanted to know. But, forgetting it went both ways, Howard learned how much his son wanted to do this, how much Tony looked up to him, and how much he knew. So they went out and fought their first kaiju together and won, ignoring loccent's panic.

Upon return, Tony was lambasted and forbidden from ever stepping foot in the shatterdome until Howard talked the newly-appointed Marshal Fury down and agreed to let Tony stay on. Seeing as he _was_ under parental supervision. And they were a good match. The Stark Relief needed a second pilot with Richards out of the mix. So Tony stayed.

And it was good. Tony and Howard developed a system. Their win streak only went up. (Of course, with kaiju, breaking a winning streak usually meant death.) And, being the geniuses that they were, the Stark men also worked with the construction and science teams to make improvements on the Stark Relief to make it better, more efficient, more powerful. The nuclear core worked better than ever, and they reinforced the joints so they'd hold up longer. The Stark Relief was the strength of the American West Coast for three long successful years. Until...

 

Double event. First of its kind. Category three. Two knifeheads. It was the Stark Relief at first with the Red Room joining them later from Russia. After the Stark Relief had taken one of the kaiju down on its own.

Tony screamed as Howard was ripped free, flailing and twitching as Howard's pain flooded his brain. The neural connections severed. Tony still screamed, rage and loss and pain and bloodlust clouding his mind.

 

They found the Stark Relief up by Seattle some hours later, draped over Vancouver Island.

The reports stated that the kaiju was defeated by Tony Stark, solo-pilot, single-handed.

The reports said they found him conscious, just inside the Conn-Pod.

The reports said that Tony had been sobbing, inconsolable.

The reports said that they had to sedate Tony to bring him home. The Stark Relief was ruled as destroyed.

The reports said that Fury was at fault for letting a seventeen year old kid like Tony Stark pilot.

Didn't matter.

Tony didn't remember anything except the gaping maw of the loss of his father.

 

_7 Years Later_

The Hulk bashed the kaiju over the head, double-fisted, Banner roaring within. Predictably, the kaiju went down and stayed there.

“Damn, is it just me or are these fuckers getting harder to beat?” Clint groused. This was only his and Natasha's third encounter. He liked the woman. For all she didn't say to him. Strong and silent type. He could dig that.

“Makes me wish the Stark team was still around,” Bruce growled over the comms.

“No go,” Clint said simply. “No one's seen or heard from the kid since the Stark Relief went down.” Like Bruce didn't know that. The rumours were vicious. Stark Jr. was brain dead. Stark Jr. was a hermit ad consorted with kaiju parts to reconcile. Stark Jr. did weird experiments on kaiju parts. Stark Jr. was actually dead—the front woman was just keeping up appearances for the ocmpany.

“On your two, Hulk,” Natasha said in her usual flat tones.

“Fucking double events,” Clint muttered, whirling to help. “Woah—incoming on our six, Nat, you—”

“I see it,” she said curtly. She had been around in the Stark team's days. Her and her previous co-pilot. They'd been in charge of the Red Room. Her and Barnes. Until Barnes died from trauma. Natasha barely pulled through, and, with a lot of physical therapy, she was ready to pilot again. Clint, late bloomer that he was, was new to the programme and they were paired up, much to both their chagrin. At first. “What the—”

“Looks like you guys need help,” a new voice said over the comms.

“What the hell!” Clint gaped as visual came up.

“While Blackhawk is doing nothing, Hulk, looks like you could use a hand!”

“Stark!?”

A flashy red and gold Jaeger _flew_ into view. As it passed t hem by, Clint could see it was _small_.

“Holy fuck! You're going to get _trashed_ in that thing, Stark!” Banner shouted, still wrestling with the leatherback.

But Stark and his copilot raised a hand and fired on the kaiju, taking it down in three quick successive hits.

Clint could see the smaller machine was more nimble than either his and Nat's or Banner's. It was clearly powerful, for being maybe only ¾ the size of a regular Jaeger.

The kaiju taken care of, they were called back to the Los Angeles shatterdome they called home. Stark's Jaeger followed them, Bruce and Stark chattering back and forth. Clint and Natasha didn't say anything.

When they reached the shatterdome, Stark's Jaeger knelt gracefully outside and he climbed out of the head, climbing down to the tarmac. Fury met him outside, half the staff lingering for the anticipated spectacle as Hulk and Blackhawk docked.

The expected questions flew out of Fury's mouth: Where have you been? Where did you get the Jaeger? What do you think you were doing; you're not authorised to be out there! And where the fuck is your goddman copilot? Get them down here!

Tony just grinned. “There is none.”

Jaws dropped. Banner piloted alone. He had some strange adrenaline condition that allowed him to do so, yet also prevented him from having a co-pilot. But he passed out for about four hours afterwards. Stark... Stark was a 24 year old kid.

“What do you mean 'no co-pilot?'” Fury asked slowly.

“Exactly what it says on the tin,” Tony said, chin going up. “Gone senile in your old age, Fury? The job finally getting to you? It's just me. I worked out a system. I don't need a co-pilot.”

“You watch your tongue, Stark; I can have you court martialed! You had no place being out there!”

“I saved your pilots asses!” Tony snorted, folding his arms.

“You haven't been in the field in seven years! What the hell were you thinking?!”

Tony grinned, dangerous and mean. “I'm thinking it was one hell of a trial run.”

A murmur ran through the crowd, several sharp curses staccatoing around them as Fury stared Tony down. No one spoke. No one even moved. Finally, “You're a fucking menace, Stark. I want you in for eval and debrief. ASAP.”

Tony shook his head. “You're not my boss.”

“You—”

“I am an independent contract, Fury. I don't work for you. And the parts are all mine. That Jaeger? That's mine. I built it. None of Iron Man belongs to you. You have no jurisdiction over me. I have access to the Jaeger systems patents and plans. I came up with most of my own systems anyway—I made it _better_ ,” Tony snarled, throwing a hand behind him to point at the sleek machine. “That's _mine_. And you can't take it. You can't tell me what to do.”

A muscle twitched in Fury's jaw. “My office. Now.”

Grinning, Tony glanced around at their audience. He found Natasha and Clint, winked, and then sauntered after the pathway Fury cut through the people.

“Okay,” Fury said once they were behind closed doors. “I want you to tell me everything, and then we're going to figure out how this works.”

“What do you mean 'how this works?'” Tony echoed with a frown.

“You can't just barge in to these operations, Stark. There's procedure.”

“Fuck procedure,” he sapped harshly. “I don't give a rat's ass about your procedure. Did things your way, if you recall. Got my dad killed—”

“Ah, there it is—”

“I'm not finished,” Tony interrupted harshly. “I'm doing things my way. I've got Iron Man. I've got my people for reparis. I've got my alert system. And I don't need you telling me what to do. It'll only slow me down.”

Fury nodded along with Tony's rant. “Okay. Okay, Stark. So you play your Lone Ranger game. You win some. Great. What happens, son, when you lose?”

“Don't call me that. And simple. I don't lose.”

Fury laughed.

“I wont!” Tony said fiercely. “I've got plans. I've been working on this since—” He took a deep breath, hands balling into fists. “I've done this before. I'm not unprepared. I know how to work a Jaeger. I'm not some fresh pilot who doesn't know how to face a kaiju. I am a genius, in case you forgot.”

“A genius who's setting himself up for suicide missions. You know why we put two pilots in a Jaeger, Stark?”

“To share the—”

“To share the neural load,” Fury snapped. “You know why else?” He paused to give Tony a chance to reply. When there wasn't one, he barrelled on, “To keep one another accountable, Stark. So we don't have pilots who freak the fuck out and thrown themselves and multi-billion dollar _government_ equipment on top of kaiju in revenge. You get me?”

“With all due respect and that good shit, _sir_ , I've already had my emotional breakdowns. I think I'm good.”

“Stark, you are so far from 'good,' you gone and forgot what 'good' is!” Fury growled. “Now, I'm sorry I'm not sorry, but I can't allow you to do this. I—”

“Sir!” The door banged open causing both men to whirl to face the perceived threat. Coulson stood there, panting in the doorway.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Fury snapped.

“Sir! I think we've found the American Spirit.”

“Come again?” Fury said, straightening.

Tony stared stupidly, his brain repeating _American Spirit American Spirit American Spirit American Spirit Ameri—_ “Oh God...” he said faintly. “Are you serious?”

But Coulson was already rambling. “We were doing scans for the potential Antarctic shatterdome when we think we found it!” He gestured to Fury and they hurried from the room leaving Tony to lurch after them.

All of Howard's memories of Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter flooded his brain and he reeled, grabbing for the wall to steady himself.

“Need help, Stark?”

He jerked, eyes wide, going to Clint. “ _Jesus_ , don't do that to me.”

“I heard.”

“I'm sure you did,” he snapped, straightening.

Clint just stared at him, unimpressed.

“Sorry,” Tony muttered, dragging a hand over his face. “I don't... I need to process this. Carter's still alive. We'll need to contact her.”

“Not your job,” Clint said with a shrug.

“But I _should_ ,” Tony insisted. He shook his head and set off after Fury and Coulson towards loccent. “Where were you looking?” Tony demanded, getting in next to Coulson as he pulled up a world map. “They shouldn't have even been near there. That attack was closer to where the Galapagos Islands used to be.”

“We know, Stark,” Coulson said, his unflappable demeanour back in place. But Tony could see the way his hands shook, manipulating the 3D image. Coulson was a not-so-closeted fan. “The last known location of the American Spirit was here.” He stabbed a point halfway between the equator and the Tropic of Capricorn, at about -105 longitude. “But... We think we found him about here.” He stabbed another point, the coordinates popping up at -74.061433, -86.484375.

“Let's go,” Tony said, turning away from the display, coordinates memorised.

“Hold up, Stark,” Fury said, grabbing his arm. “You're not going anywhere.”

“But I owe it to—”

“You don't owe nobody,” Fury said firmly. “Go get your head checked out, make sure your body's fine too, then maybe we'll see if you're ready for the expedition. Nuh-uh. No arguments. Go.”

Tony went. Not cheerfully, but Tony went.


	3. Chapter Two

Two hours later, Tony was cleared as mentally sufficient. He headed back to loccent and ran into Bruce on the way. He grinned. “Banner!” The man looked groggy and out of it. But he was conscious. “How you doing?”

“Tony...?”

“Let's get you some coffee,” he said officiously, steering the man towards the cafeteria.

Bruce followed along docilely, sitting as Tony nudged him onto a bench, drinking from the mug Tony pressed into his hands. He waited as Bruce slowly perked up from the caffeine, focusing in on Tony. “Hey... What are you doing here?”

“I made my own Jaeger,” Tony said proudly. He grinned at Bruce. “How's yours? Hulk still hanging together?”

Nodding slowly, Bruce stared at him. “Wow... I haven't seen you in forever...” he murmured into his mug.

“Yeah, yeah, let's get past that part.”

“How on Earth did you make your own Jaeger...” he said wonderingly.

“Seven years of hard work and a lot of money,” Tony said flatly. “They found the American Spirit.”

Bruce's eyes popped wide. “They _what_?”

“The American Spirit. Coulson said they found it. Antarctica. There's an expedition. I'm going.”

Banner huffed, giving him a small wry smile. “And does the expedition team know this?”

“Details, details,” he said, waving the concern away with a hand. “I'm going. My father—”

“Yes, Tony, I know. I knew the man.”

Tony's enthusiasm dwindled and his shoulders curled in. “I... Yeah. I know. I just... I have to go. I have to be there.”

“I understand,” Bruce replied softly. “I get it, Tony. And that's fine. Go. I assume Fury's scrambling a team together?”

“Yeah. Probably. Was just on my way back there. But then I ran into you.”

“Sorry.”

Tony snorted and waved it away again. “Whatever. Haven't seen you in years.”

“Good to know the rumours about you aren't true,” Bruce said with a small laugh.

“Rumours? Oh God, tell me,” Tony said, leaning towards him with a grin.

“Like you don't know them all already...”

Tossing his head back, Tony laughed. “I've missed you.”

“I'll probably stay here.”

“Why?”

Bruce just gave him a look. “We can't have all our Jaeger pilots going. I'm sure I'll be staying here. Blackhawk—Natasha and Clint will probably stay. And then the newer ones... Swarm's Revenge—that's Hank and his wife, Jan—and probably Thunder God. Thor. He just got a new copilot. Seems like the most unlikely pair. His last copilot went off the deep end and dropped off the map. No one knows where he is. So Thor has a new copilot, mousy little woman named Jane. Sweet. Brilliant, but sweet. So we'll probably stay here in L.A. to man the shatterdome while all the top brass heads off to the nut-end of the world to bring back a relic.”

Tony bristled. “It's not just a relic! It's a symbol!”

It was Bruce's turn to laugh. “And here I thought you weren't into symbols, man of science.”

“Well, man of science,” Tony said archly, “this one is different.”

Bruce's expression softened. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is.”

Faltering, Tony looked down at his own mug of coffee. “It's just... I mean... I've got Howard in my head, you know...?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I'm alright. You go ahead and see what's going on upstairs.” Bruce gave him a reassuring smile.

Tony popped up to his feet. “Great. See you when I get back!” Giving him a sloppy salute as he walked backwards, Tony whirled and trotted up to loccent. “So! What's the plan?”

Fury looked up at him with pursed lips. “Coulson needs to stay here. So since you're pretty handy with the tech, Stark, we will be asking you along.”

Pumping his fist, Tony grinned.

“But!” Fury said, holding up a finger. “That means you're under my command. This is my mission, my rules.”

His smile faded into a curled lip, but Tony nodded in agreement. “Fine. I can be ready in... Let me get some stuff.”

“We leave at 1900, Stark. You've got an hour and a half.”

“Great. That's fine. Mind if I leave Iron Man out there?” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

Sighing, Fury rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

“And don't even think of getting people to try and get inside it. It's barometrically locked.” He winked at the marshal and then headed out, already calling Pepper for a car to meet him.

He threw anything he might need into a pair of duffles and then was back at the shatterdome just as the team was prepping to leave. They'd fly to Buenos Aires and then take a boat to Antarctica. And then take the exploration and excavation crew to the point where they suspected the American Spirit to be.

Three days later, Tony wished he were wearing a thicker sweater over the t-shirt beneath the heat-trapping sweater he was already wearing, beneath the heavy park with a hat and hood pulled up. “Fuck the cold,” he muttered. One of the crew to his right laughed as they disembarked at the bottom of the world. They set themselves up in a little igloo-like building, designed to trap heat. Hell, _everything_ was designed to trap heat. Tony set himself up in a corner with his equipment—some actually his, some belonging to PPDC. All with the Pan Pacific Defense Corps permission, of course. He'd spent most of the trip working. Fine-tuning the satellites he planned on bouncing his signals off of to find the American Spirit. Redesigning and reprogramming software. Now that they were here, Tony made sure his set-up was good, his signal was strong, and that he had enough energy to accomplish what he hoped he could accomplish.

“You prepared to be mobile, Stark?” Fury asked.

Tony looked up at him, nodding, a screwdriver clenched between his teeth. He dropped it into his lap. “Let's do this.”

The team all seemed to take their breath before ducking into the cold. Snowshoes attached, they began the trek to the coordinates. Tony kept his tablet in front of him, comparing their position as they got closer. But before they could get close, Tony could see the snow mound that could only be American Spirit. His heart beat faster and he couldn't help but pick up his pace as they got closer.

“Slow down, Stark,” Fury called over the wind.

Panting, Tony sped up. Their location dot was on top of American Spirit's location. The residual nuclear readings spooled out across his screen, the metal detection readings clear. He reached the slope of the hill, pawing at the snow. Tony's breath hitched as he saw the blue through the ice. “It's here!” Tony said, excitedly. “The American Spirit! It's here!”

The rest of the team had caught up and got out their heat torches. Tony scanned it, mapping the shape of the American Spirit and wandering up towards the head. He frowned at the readings that showed up, rerunning the scan. As he waited for the scan to finish, Tony couldn't help but wonder what Rogers had been thinking, walking all the way south. Having piloted solo after his—Tony could understand the mindset of being unable to really think beyond _get home keep moving get home keep moving get home keep moving_. But to completely miss the Lima shatterdome and end up here...? He couldn't understand that. They'd found Carter's body washed ashore two weeks later. Tony could see the reports in Howard's memories. It hadn't been pretty.

The scan finished. Again with the strange readings. He frowned. Ran it again. As the bright blue of American Spirit was slowly being released from its ice prison, Tony dug at the head. “Hey!” he called to the workers. “Can I get in here please!”

They found the top hatch pretty quickly, giving Tony access to the Conn-Pod. He frowned again at the readings before understanding dawned, hand on the hatch lock. “H-holy shit.... Shit! _Shit_! Fuck!” Tony scrabbled at the latch, wrenching it open. “I think something's living in here!” he shrieked, bringing people running. “Oh my God, that's a heartbeat! Oh my fucking God there's—Jesus it's Rogers! Holy fuck I think he's still alive!” The hatch open, Tony scrambled inside, shaking. He found Rogers' body slumped at an awkward angle, half-encased in ice, suit in good condition. “Oh my God...” Tony breathed reverently as there was noise behind him of others entering. He heard Fury's low curse and the team leader praise God behind him. “He's still alive,” Tony marvelled. “Medical! Get a fucking medica—”

“Stark!” the marshal grabbed his shoulder. “Calm down.”

Tony whirled. “We need medical!”

“He's been here this long, he'll last until we get him back to camp.”

Looking back to Rogers, Tony reached out, touching the helmet. “God...” he marvelled again. “How?”

“Who knows. We'll wake him, see how much of Rogers is left in there, and then we'll see what we can find out. Come on Stark. Let's let the team get him disconnected and back to camp. We'll warm him slowly and get him on an IV. Back off. I need you to go back to camp and let the med staff there know. Go.”

He knew Fury was just getting him out of the way. But the motivation of _Steve Rogers_ alive was enough to get him back to camp quickly. Unfortunately, it also mean that the was once again shoved to the side so they could set up a station to nurse Rogers back to wakefulness and health. So Tony hacked the PPDC's servers and got himself the entire reports and video files so he could see everything with his own eyes. And then promptly sent Pepper an email with the strictest secrecy. And then responded to an email from Rhodey. And then memorised American Spirit's specs. Again.

Fury arrived back at base with Steve. And promptly ordered Tony to the far corner so he would calm the fuck down and get the fuck out of the way. Fury's words. Not Tony's. The waiting game was always a killer for him.

He'd eventually made his way entirely across the bunker until he was by Steve's side. Colour had returned to the man's face. They'd peeled him out of his suit and packed warming blankets around him, got an IV in his elbow, and a heart monitor on the guy. His pulse was steady and strong now. Definitely alive. No mistake about that now. Tony leaned over him, holding his breath. His hair was longer, shaggy around his face. Scruff covering his chin. Tony wanted to shave him and trim his hair so he would match the image in memories that floated through his brain. They didn't have brain scan equipment, so there was no way of knowing if anyone was home or not in that body, but they would know if—when—the man woke. Now it was all down to the clock.

Which was apparently soon because Rogers' eyelids fluttered and opened revealing bluer eyes than all the photos and video lead Tony to believe. The man groaned and shifted. He opened his mouth to try and say something, unintelligible noise coming out. He made more noise and squirmed on the bed.

Tony lurched, grabbing Steve's hand. “It's okay! It's okay. You're safe! You're okay.” He reached over to pull the mask off of Steve and smiled at him, hopefully reassuring.

Steve's brow furrowed in confusion. “Howard...?”


	4. Chapter Three

Tony deflated.

“No...” Rogers rasped. “Not Howard.”

One point back to Rogers. “No,” Tony said hoarsely. “No, I'm not Howard. I'm Tony.” He gave Steve's hand a squeeze. “Tony Stark.”

“Stark...?” Steve echoed, still looking confused.

“How are you feeling?”

“Howard never mentioned a brother,” he said.

So...stuck on that then. Though, apparently well enough to make that little mental leap. Tony sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm not his brother. I'm his son.”

Steve's confusion only grew. “Am I dreaming...?”

“No. It's 2041.”

Rogers stared at him stupidly. Then, “What?”

“It's 2041.”

“I _heard_ you the first time.” He struggled to sit up. “That's impossible. It's 2015.”

“Relax. You were frozen,” Tony said quickly, pushing him back down to rest. In retrospect, he wasn't quite sure why that would be reassuring. “We're in Antarctica. You got...uh...cryogenically frozen? Sort of.”

“What happened? What else?” Steve demanded hoarsely.

Tony did his best to explain the situation—the kaiju, the state of the union, their location, Peggy. His father.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, hopeful, looking, for all his peakedness, shell-shocked.

“Who?”

“James Barnes?”

“Oh...” Tony swallowed. “Dead. I'm sorry.”

Rogers just took a deep breath. Closed his eyes.

“But you're alive. You—”

“God _dammit_ , Stark!” Fury bellowed, stalking over. “You get the hell out of here! Why didn't you say he was awake?!”

“Rogers,” Tony said wryly, “this is Marshal Fury.”

“Marshal Pentecost?” he said softly like he already knew the answer.

“Dead, Rogers; I'm sorry,” Fury said, gentling.

To Steve's credit, he didn't even flinch. Probably numb.

“Get out of here, Stark. You don't have clearance,” Fury snapped.

“Give me five minutes with a computer and I will.”

“ _Go_. Else I'm gonna leave you here and revoke all access to everything.”

Tony muttered but stood. One last look at Rogers and then he was back in his corner, messaging Pepper and Rhodey furiously. The rest of the trip was infuriatingly less interesting ad exciting. The crews finished excavating the American Spirit in three days. Three excruciatingly boring days in which Fury wouldn't let him near Rogers—the most interesting part of this trip, forget the American Spirit. The pilot was much more interesting. There were doctors swarming him nearly night and day. So Tony fixed stuff. Whatever broke, he was the token mechanic, never mind that they had one on the team. Who referred everyone to Tony—probably on Fury's orders. Keep him busy so he wouldn't get in the way.

But they called in the copters to fly American Spirit home while everyone else shipped out the same way they'd come in. Steve was surrounded by agents most of the trip home on the plane. Tony managed to snag a seat next to him for a little while.

“Hey,” he said as he plopped down.

Steve looked up at him, startled. “Hi...”

“How you doing?”

“You're Stark's son.”

“Um. Yes.”

“I'm sorry. About his... You were his copilot?”

Tony nodded. “After Richards, yeah.”

“Wow... Gosh. How old are you?” The man's eyes focused in on him.

“Twenty-four. So. The docs clear you? You're all there?”

The man's nose wrinkled. “You mean, am I brain damaged.”

He blinked. “I was aiming for tact.”

Rogers chuckled. “You're a lot like Howard.”

“I drifted with him. And he's my father,” he said as if that explained everything. And to another pilot, it would. They fell silent, Tony not really sure what to say, sure that Steve didn't know either.

“2041...” the other man finally sighed. “I... And we really haven't found a way to do anything about the kaiju permanently?”

Tony nodded. “We're working on it.”

“They've been working on it since I began piloting,” Rogers drawled.

“Everyone will be thrilled you're back. Do you think you'll pilot again?”

Steve just gave him a frigid look.

“Right,” Tony murmured, dropping his eyes. “Too soon.” They sat in silence until an agent booted him from his seat.

When they landed, Rogers was rushed off, and Tony expected to never see him again. Pepper was furious. His inbox was full. There were eight billion theories on the internet about his emergence from solitude. And about a hundred interview offers. He ignored all of them. Save for a message from Rhodey. Who he called as he headed home to have an actually steaming shower and get some clean clothes. “Rhodey!” Tony said cheerfully when his friend answered.

“Tony...? Jesus, it is ass o'clock in the morning! Why are you calling me?”

“Are you at home? I'm at home. Well I'm going home. I can—”

“Tony, no. I'm gonna stop you right there. I'm on base.”

“Oh,” he said simply, pulling into his estate. “Oh right. Newish partner, right?”

“New as of a year and a half ago.”

“Oh.” Whoops. “So. How is she?”

“Danvers is great. Love working with her. Thank you. Now. Did you need something? Or can I go back to sleep.”

He felt bad for a half a minute. “We've got American Spirit back.”

“Yes, I know. I've seen it, and you told me. Remember?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Of course he'd done that. “But we found the pilot! Rogers! Alive!”

“Tony...” Rhodes said tiredly. “You told me that too. Are you okay? I just spent the entire day showing Rogers around the L.A. shatterdome. It's different than the Anchorage one.”

“What?” Tony yelped, pausing as he walked out of the elevator. “Seriously?”

“Yes, Tony. Can this wait until tomorrow?”

“Get me access! Wait—! I can do that myself—and I still need to pick up Iron Man. So I can—”

“Yeah, listen. Do we need to talk about that too? Because I'm sure that's dangerous, Tony. You're doing a dangerous thing here.”

“Oh hush, worry wart. I'm being perfectly safe.” He shed his shirt, dropping it on the sofa.

“Battling kaiju solo? I know that's not a two-pilot Conn-Pod. Does Pepper know?”

“Of course Pepper knows. I can't just liquidate a billion without Pepper finding out.”

“Oh Jesus.” There was rustling on the other end before Rhodey sighed gustily. “Okay. I'm going to hang up on you now. But we are going to talk tomorrow. Okay?”

“Wait! Wait I need you to tell me everything about Rogers!”

“Good night, Tony.”

“No wait! I want—dammit...” Tony grumbled, dropping his phone on the sofa after the line went dead. Muttering, Tony went for the shower—called Pepper for a short scolding, and then went to bed.

Tony was at the base by nine the next morning. He snuck in and wandered towards the living quarters. Knocking on Rhodey's door, he frowned when the man wasn't in. It would have pre-empted the phone call.

“Excuse me?”

He whirled to face a tall blonde, glaring at him.

“You...” he frowned.

“Danvers. Who the he—oh. Stark.”

“So you've heard of me,” he said, summoning his most charming smile.

“Don't even go there, stark,” she said with a reproachful grin. “I know all about Chicago 2011. Looking for Rhodes?”

Tony nodded, snapping his mouth shut. “I hate drifting,” he grumbled.

Danver's expression softened. “Hey. I'm sorry it didn't work out between you two.”

“Honey, I don't even know your first name. You don't get to be that comfortable with me yet,” he said frostily.

“You're right. I'm sorry. I know James thinks about it a lot. He worries. And I'm Carol. Carol Danvers.” She held out a hand. Which Tony shook.

“Tony Stark,” he muttered as if she didn't already know that. “So where is he?”

Recognising the end of the conversation, Carol nodded and jerked her head down the hall. “Combat room. With Rogers.” He perked and wove around her with a mumbled thanks. But Danvers grabbed his arm. “Hey. Take it easy, okay? I know you don't like people worrying after you, but James does. Hence, I do. Alright? Take care, and don't go out alone. Okay? We've got a strong team here.”

“Thanks,” Tony said slowly, narrowing his eyes at her. Then pulled free and hurried down the hall. He heard the sounds of combat before he reached the doorway. Predictably, a small crowd had gathered, letting Tony join them inconspicuously. He wove through the crowd until he was near the front. Rogers took Rhodey down. “What's the count,” he whispered to the woman next to him.

“20-6,” she murmured back, never taking her eyes off the pair. “And I assume it's because Rhodes is now getting tired. Though Rogers has let him win...”

Tony nodded, staring. Rogers took Rhodey down again.

“Ready to call it quits, Rhodes?” Rogers offered him a hand and held his bo behind his back respectfully.

“I'm beat,” James sighed. He groaned as he stood, stretching his back. “Anyone else?” he laughed, holding his bo out for any takers.

Tony had a hand on it, taking it before his brain registered the action.

“Tony!” Rhodey said, surprised. Steve looked just as surprised.

But it didn't top him from taking Tony down hard the first two times. That was fine. Tony learned quick, and he'd watched Steve with Rhodey, so now he knew his mouth and could counter, finding himself with his bo at Steve's neck. He grinned. Steve's eyes widened.

“2-1,” someone called out. They separated and went again. “2-2.” “3-2.” “4-2.” “4-3.” “4-4.” “4-5.” “7-9.” “9-11.” “13-13.” “17-16.”

Wiping sweat from his brow, Tony bowed and then bos clacked furiously, Tony rolling out of the way, the tip of his bo catching between Steve's ankles, making him stumble. He whirled on his upward momentum, his bo jabbing the small of Steve's back. Panting, Tony beamed as he stepped back, bo at his side.

“17-17,” someone called for the final count.

Tony blinked as Steve turned. No. Pushing the bo into one of the rangers hands, he fled.

 

“Hey Tony?” Rhodes called up to Iron Man. “I know you're up there! I'm coming up.” He looked around, knowing Tony clambered up and down the thing somehow. Eventually, he found some little notches and handles and made his way up to the Conn-Pod. “Tony? Hey dude, what was that?”

Tony was hunched over the display, wires pulled out, tools scattered across the floor.

Dropping inside, Rhodey took a deep breath. “Geeze. It's a mess in here...”

“Working,” Tony grunted.

“Yeah, no shit. But you left an awful lot of confused people back there.”

“Tough.”

“Okay,” James said, folding himself down near Tony. “I think we're past the one-word answer stage of our relationship.”

Tony's hand stilled and his eyes slid over towards his friend. “You saw what happened in there.”

“Uh, yeah. You and Rogers sparred. Guy's in great shape for being a human popsicle.”

“The _numbers_ , Rhodey, the _numbers_ ,” Tony snapped.

“What about the numbers?”

“Don't play stupid; I know you're not,” Tony snapped, looking up at him.

Rhodey sighed. “Okay. So you guys might be drift compatible. It's not like you have to do anything about it.”

“There's a reason why I pilot alone, Rhodey. It's not just to prove I can. Because obviously I've already proved that. Besides, Fury's going to know. Fuck, _everyone's_ going to know. Dammit! And they'll all be asking about it too! When are Rogers and Stark going to pilot together? Everyone will pin us as the 'dream team,' and I don't want to drift with anyone else! But if Fury wants Rogers back in a Conn-Pod, then he's going to ask me. But I—”

“Woah there. First of all, ego check. I know you're good, Tony, but don't be an ass. Second of all, nobody's going to make you do anything you don't want to do. For Pete's sake, I can't even make you get somewhere on time if you don't care.”

“Really,” Tony countered flatly. “I didn't want to try drifting with you, and I got talked into it, didn't I.”

James sighed, passing a hand over his face. “I'm sorry. I've told you a hundred times. Can you please just... Listen. Just because that didn't work—”

“'Didn't work?' It was an unmitigated disaster!”

“Ease up, drama queen. We're both fine, Tony. I'm not trying to make light of this, but I think you wouldn't be making a mistake in trying to drift with Rogers. And!” he said, holding a finger up before Tony could go off on another rang. “And, this is all contingent on whether or not Rogers is cleared for active duty.”

Tony scowled. Rhodey was right. But... “Do you think Rogers will be cleared?”

James sighed. Again. “I don't know. He seems... He seems pretty on top of things. In public. I don't know about how the man sleeps. Or how he is in private. Speaking of... You're back in the public eye, my friend. You keep your nose clean.”

Rolling his eyes, Tony reached for the wire-stripper. “Yes, Mom.”

“Shut up, Stark,” Rhodey said fondly.

His lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't want to drift with anyone else. Tony didn't want anyone else that close. Ever. Not again.

“Uh... Tony? I didn't mean that literally. Come on. Come get something to eat with me?”

“He sighed. The work he was doing was nit-picky. Making system responses run faster in response to verbal cues. “Fine.” And set aside his tools

They were in the middle of their less-than-satisfying chicken alfredo when the alarm went off. Tony sighed and pushed his tray back. “well. Test run number two...”

“What?!” Rhodey whirled on him. “Are you kidding? No way in hell! Iron Man is half under construction! You're not going out, Tony. And that was a _test run_ a week ago? _Hell_ no!”

“Soldier Ready and Thunder Son rangers report,” the PA system said.

“I have to go. _Please_ Tony. Stay here.” Then he rushed off to get to the drivesuit room.

Grumbling, Tony pushed his food around on his tray, chin in hand. Stupid. Well. May as well get Iron Man up to snuff again. He deposited his tray on the belt to the kitchen and then headed out to the yard. Phone out, Tony apologised absently to whoever he bumped into as he rounded the corner.

“Hold on, Mr. Stark,” a warm voice said, hand curling around his arm.

“No time, Steve-o, places to be, things to do,” Tony quipped. Then froze, looking up at the man. “Shit.” Steve's eyes were just as wide. “I didn't—Dad was... Sorry. Just pretend that didn't happen.” He pulled away.

“It's fine,” Rogers said slowly, staring at him. “Where are you going?”

“I have to work on Iron Man,” he replied stiffly.

“Oh.” Beat. “Can I come see it? You pilot alone, right? All the time? And there's no after-effects? No strain? Or damage?”

“Clearly not,” Tony said, but a grin stretched, wry, across his lips. “Why d'you want to know? Interested? I revamped the system so it works for me. Just one pilot. No mental fatigue.”

“Yeah,” Steve challenged. “I actually am sort of interested. You do all your own work?”

“Mostly,” Tony said slowly, reappraising Steve. “Are you seriously interested in being a solo pilot? I don't know if I can make it work for anyone else...”

Steve shrugged. “Trying can't hurt.”

“Huh,” he said sort of wonderingly. He cocked his head at the man, wondering if he knew what he was wanting to get himself into. “it can, actually. But were you cleared for active duty?”

“Were you?” Rogers shot right back.

“Good point... And..technically, no. But! I've had seven years to work through my issues. You've had...two days?”

Steve's lips tightened, hands curling into fists at his sides. “I don't want to be a civilian. This isn't about the ranger fame and glory. I can still do good as a ranger, in a Conn-Pod. And I don't want a new co-pilot. I thought you would have understood that. I don't want anyone else dealing with my shit. So if you can help me out...”

Tony's grin was all teeth. “Okay, sleeping beauty. Give me some time, and we'll see what damage we can do.”


	5. Chapter 5

In the span of the next week, the whole shatterdome was looking at Tony like he was crazy, he got his own dock for Iron Man, Fury admitted he was useful, he defeated a kaiju with Soldier Ready (it was awesome), had two interviews to show the public he was sane, whole, and just as slick as he had been before, drawn up tentative plans for Steve's Jaeger, and, against all odds, struck up an easy friendship with the man. And had maybe gotten nineteen hours sleep. Total.

“You know,” Rogers said casually, “if you don't sleep, Fury won't clear you to help.”

“So long as no one knows...” he responded, shifting displays around to tweak aspects of Steve's Jaeger.

“I read once that being exhausted is just as bad as being drunk. You wouldn't pilot Iron Man drunk, would you?”

“If it would save people.”

“If it would cost you your life?”

“Well now you're just no fun.” Tony sighed. Once Rogers stopped referencing his dad, and once they both knew to ignore the signs of their drift compatibility, they got on great. “Gonna take me to bed then, Rogers? Make me sleep?” he joked.

“You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink,” Steve replied mildly. “However, tether him near the trough and he's bound to drink eventually.”

Tony blinked. “You're kind of terrifying.” But he did straighten his back and stretch, rubbing his eyes. The small research room he'd appropriated at the shatterdome _had_ seen far too much of him. Tony stared blankly at his work, mind buzzing with too many thoughts and not enough filter. “Would you ever copilot with anyone again?” he found himself asking. His eyes darted to Steve and away when there was no response after too-long of a moment.

Then finally, “If you make that work, I won't have to.”

Tony snorted. “Evasive.”

Steve just nodded.

“Pretty much the entire complex thinks we're drift compatible.”

“Do _you_?”

This time Tony _did_ look at Steve. “Yes.”

“I don't want anyone else in my head,” Steve said sharply.

“Didn't think so,” Tony muttered. “Though neither do I.”

“Problem sorted then. Get some sleep, Stark.”

So he did. And dreamed of Steve and kaiju and betraying his father and a giant Jaeger and woke sweating. At least it was four hours.

 

“Stark—”

“No,” Tony interrupted Fury, continuing on his path.

“Stark, you get your ass back here,” the man barked at him.

Sighing, Tony flipped his shades up on top of his head. “I'm really busy. Can this wait?”

Fury's stare was cold. “We're retiring Hulk. Banner's better suited for the research team anyway. He's made huge progress with anti-kaiju preparations.”

“And you're telling me this why?”

“Shut it, Stark. I need Rogers back in the field. He's ready.”

“Great,” Tony breezed. “I'm working on it.”

“Uh-uh. I don't want another solo pilot out there. You're loose cannons that way. He needs a copilot—”

“Oh _hell_ no,” Tony interrupted. “I am _not_ doing it. I've got my own Jaeger. I've got my own way of doing things; I've—”

“You interrupt me one more time, Stark, I'm going to grown you and ban you from the shatterdome.”

He rolled his eyes. “I still don't work for you,” Tony scoffed.

“That's not what my paperwork says—ah! Ah! I said no more interrupting: Take it up with that charming CEO of your company.”

He let out a horrified gasp. “Traitor!”

“Now. I suggest you and Rogers talk shit out.. I want you both to meet me at Hanger 8 at 15h30. _Don't_ be late. _Don't_ keep me waiting.”

Tony sighed and scowled after Fury as the man walked away. “Always have to have the last word, don't you... Blah blah blah. You—”

“You okay, Tony?”

He flinched and whirled on Rhodey. “Fuck. You have to not do that to me.”

His friend grinned. “You mean interrupted you while you monologue and mock Fury?”

Tony narrowed his eyes ad huffed. “Exactly.”

“Gonna tell me what that was all about?”

Sighing heavily, Tony headed back towards Rhodey's quarters. “Exactly what I thought it would be: he wants me to pilot with Rogers.”

That merely brought a thoughtful hum from James.

“You can't tell me you agree with him...” Pushing open the door, he headed straight for Rhodey's closet.

“Dude, Stark, you really gotta stop keeping your booze in my room.”

“You know, for some reason they _trust_ you. They do sweeps. Keeps it from being confiscated if it's in mine,” he said cheerfully, dropping onto the retro beanbag chair Rhodey had from college. “Drink?” And poured on, offering it to James, swigging from the bottle himself. “Alright. Go on. Dazzle me. Why should Rogers and I pilot together?

“Because I think you're too lonely people trying to keep the world out, and I think you'll be stronger together. And,” Rhodey said, taking the glass and sipping from it, “I think you actually like him.”

“Wow. Way to make it sound like a romance. Which it totally is not, by the way. And I don't want to know his life story.”

“Just, as I'm sure he doesn't want to know yours,” he countered. “But then, did you need to know your father's life story either?”

Lips pressing tight, Tony didn't respond. There were _definitely_ parts of his father's life he'd rather not know. Not that Rhodey needed to bring that up. But at least Howard had been family. And at least, for a few years, he'd had a father. Not just 'Howard.'

“Listen, man. I'm not sorry I brought it up. You guys could be a good team.”

“You never were good at playing matchmaker, Rhodey,” Tony said archly.

James laughed. “Not my fault you ruined it by puking on Moira's shoes. And it's not my fault when you slept with the wrong twin...”

A few drinks and a few hours later, there was a knock on Rhodey's door, Tony's head swivelling towards it, pleasantly buzzed. He snickered as Rhodey quickly hid his glass and grabbed the bottle from Tony's hand to stash away.

“Rhodes. Hello? Is Tony here? Stark?” he heard a familiar voice asked as Rhodey cracked the door. Sighing, he opened it to let Steve in.

“Tony, we're going to be la—oh no. are you drunk?” the man asked, eyes going wide in dismay.

“Pffsh. No. Tipsy, yes. Drunk, no.”

“Jesus,” Steve scowled. “Come on. We have that meeting with Fury.”

“Here's a shocker: I don't want to go,” Tony grinned up at him. His brain was finally letting go of all its worries. Like where to come up with the money and raw materials for Steve's Jaeger. Like all the blueprints he had to organise for Pepper. Just in case. Like the revised version of his will. That was coming up due. Like the Iron Man tech's patentability. Like drifting with Rogers...

“—ony. Tony!” Steve was standing in front of him, glaring. “We need to go meet Fury. He'll be waiting for us.”

“So he can wait. Relax, boyscout.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “All those brains, wasted in a child.”

“Hey,” Tony said sharply. “Watch it.” He got himself to his feet.

“Or else?” the man pushed.

“Woah, okay. Hold on,” Rhodey said, grabbing Steve's shoulder and putting a hand out in front of Tony. “No fighting in my room, please. Remember you guys actually like each other. Tony. Drink some water. Sober up. Rogers, take it easy.”

“Fury wants us to drift,” Tony said smugly.

James sighed, shoulders slumping. “Christ.”

“We don't have to say 'yes,'” Steve replied stiffly. “Alright. Come on. Let's go.”

Hanger 8. Closed for repairs. Tony had plenty of suspicions about why Fury wanted to meet them there: easy to be off the security loop. More private. Secret business, torture them into agreeing to drift, et cetera. There were stories. Fury wasn't always by-the-book.

But Fury was outside the doors, waiting for them, straight-backed, arms clasped behind him. “Gentlemen,” he said by way of greeting.

“As fun as all this clandestine stuff is, I really do have important things to be doing,” Tony told him brashly. And ignored the look Steve shot him.

The marshal merely nodded. “I just want to show you something.” Then turned and opened the door, leading them in. “I've been in this position a long time. I do know what I'm doing, believe it or not. So you two idiots should probably listen to me. But, then again, what do I know.”

Tony's jaw dropped when they cleared the entryway and could see the dock in hanger 8. _Not_ under construction.

“Had my people work 'round the clock... Have named her yet,” Fury continued, like the two pilots next to him weren't struck dumb. “I figured it would be good to have around. Just in case. Called in some favours. Including having the inestimable Miss Potts obtain your designs, Mr. Stark.”

“You _designed_ this?” Steve blurted, tearing his gaze away from the behemoth Jaeger to gape at Tony.

He moved forward as if magnetically drawn, jaw hanging slack. She was a marvel. Sleek and energy-efficient. Nuclear shielding, reinforced Conn-Pod with buffer zone in the event of kaiju penetration. Double nuclear core to prevent knock out from EMP, back-up analogue generators to take over seamlessly if the digital computer systems were ever knocked off-line. Guarded joints to prevent jamming and locking up. An entire arsenal of anti-kaiju weaponry designed to penetrate their hides and dissolve their biochemistry, missiles, laser, a sword, a shield—the latter made of tangible holographs—developed and patented by Tony Stark, thank you very much. Not to mention the entire body made from tonnes of fused metal polycarbonate alloys. She's beautiful...

“She is...” Rogers agreed, coming up next to him.

Tony blinked. “Was I talking out loud?”

“For some of it,” Steve said, his lips twitching in a wry grin. “You sort of started mid-sentence.”

“Cost me a lot of favours, gentlemen. Shall we take a look inside? See if it's up to your specs?” Fury suggested

“Yes,” Tony replied immediately, at the same time Steve said, “No.” “No?!” Tony yelped. “Are you kidding? I need to see how much they screwed up!” He made a mental note to ask Fury where he got all of the supplies. Not to mention the holographics tech.

Grabbing his arm, Steve's eyes flicked to Fury before he leaned close and murmured, “He's like a used car salesman. If you take a look, you might as well commit.

Tony yanked his arm away. “I need to see it. Doesn't mean I'm going to sign up to copilot with you. Don't get a big head, Rogers. I'm not that impulsive.” He looked to Fury. “I want to see inside.” And strode off to take the elevator up to Conn-Pod level. Rogers and Fury joined him, Fury radiating confidence, Rogers hunkered in on himself like iron. “Just so you know,” Tony said casually, folding his arms as his hands itched for tools, “this doesn't mean I'm going to pilot this beast. I just need to see how badly your people messed things up.”

“Had my top people on it, Stark.”

“Your top people are children compared to me,” he said, striding out as the door opened. He ignored their mutters and opened the doors to get in the pod and have a look around. She already felt a little soiled because Tony hadn't been involved in the process, not to mention Pepper had essentially stolen the plans from him. That would be addressed later, despite the good she thought she was doing. But... he couldn't help but grin as he took in the interior. Sleek and clean and organised. Steve whistled as he followed Tony in. He'd upgraded the suspension system for the pilot control mechanism. “Digital power on,” he murmured, everything flickering to life half a second later. “Hello, gorgeous...”

“Command not recognised.”

He chuckled, Steve doing the same behind him. Tony flicked through the systems interface, checking command response times, digging shallowly into the wiring. There were a few things he'd change due to the plans being slightly old now, but mostly, it looked really good.

“So. Everything to your satisfaction?” the marshal asked. “You can take her out if you like.”

“Nope,” Tony replied easily. “Not doing that.”

“Listen. I need you two to—” Fury sighed as the alarm went off. “Fuck.” Grabbed his walkie and radioed loccent. “Get Thunder Son and Soldier Ready. What are we looking at? I'm on my way. Rogers, Stark, think about this. This machine is _not_ going to waste away here.”

Tony looked up at Steve as the marshal left.

“No,” Steve told him firmly.

“But she's _made_ for us!”

“Ugh. I knew this would happen. Would you stay in a dungeon if it were tailored to you too?”

Tony blinked. “Okay. 1. That metaphor sucks. 2. I know you want to be out there. The kaiju are adapting. Hitting us harder and smarter. And you can't stand not being able to help.”

“Doesn't mean I want another person in my head again. You don't either. Or are you so blinded by your engineering wet dream that you fold that easily?” Steve snapped.

“Woah there!” Tony grabbed his arm as Steve turned to bolt. "That... Steve, it's not an us versus them scenario. Well. It is. But it's an us versus the kaiju. Not us versus Fury.”

Steve jerked his arm away. “That's not what you were saying a week ago.” And then stalked off.

Tony sighed and then redid some of the wiring. Later, he went to see Rhodey to talk about Steve. Except his friend was in a piss-poor mood. “Hold up. What's the matter?”

“Carol sprained her shoulder. She can't pilot,” James snapped.

“Shit,” Tony murmured. “Sorry. She'll be okay though. I'd offer to take her place, but—”

“Tony. Just... I'm not in the mood, tonight.”

Pulling up short, he couldn't help the stab of hurt run through him. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, sure, let me get out of your hair,” he said lightly, turning to go.

“Shit,” Rhodey muttered. “No, Tony. I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. You don't have to go.”

“No. No, I'll go. I should really go take care of some business shit anyway.” He backed out of the room and immediately had Happy on the phone with orders to pick him up.


End file.
